


Seismic waves

by agentcalliope



Series: Waves [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Episode: s03e10 Maveth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6084615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcalliope/pseuds/agentcalliope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy knows Jemma, and Fitz. She knows Fitz so well that when he’s running past her and stumbling down the hallway, she can immediately see that he’s upset. So she decides that talking to Coulson can wait, but Fitz cannot: she unhesitatingly turns around, and heads to his door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seismic waves

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to "Shockwaves". You can read this on its own, but I recommend reading "Shockwaves" first to get the full experience.
> 
> Warning for a few curse words.
> 
> Also thanks to my betas thelatenightstoryteller, welldonefitz, monicathereyes, and fitzsimmonsavenger you guys are the best.

* * *

 

She stands at his door, sure of herself.                                                     

Daisy had read once, perhaps back in her grungy little van, that family wasn’t made with blood but with choice. It didn’t matter if you shared the same genetics or if you grew up together: if you loved someone, and they loved you, you were family.

What a load of crap.

But she rather likes the sound of it. The thought that these people that she loves and has come to know- Fitz, Jemma, May, Coulson- love her back and that is what makes them a family. Even the people she hasn’t known for a long time, like Bobbi and Lincoln have become her family. She smirks as she fondly remembers the day it all began. Nothing says family like getting a bag pulled over your head and being kidnapped by a shady government organization.

 

It feels like yesterday.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

 

A different time with a different name.

And Daisy- _Skye-_ didn’t know in the beginning about Hydra, her crazy biological parents, alien genes, and all the insane shit that came along with it. Didn’t know about all the tears, heartache, betrayal or an evil Inhuman marooned on a deserted planet she was going to have to deal with in the years that followed.

 

But she does know that a few hours after they returned from England she was on her way to Coulson’s office when Fitz emerged from the room, his features contorted with anguish as he blindly ran past her in the corridor. She had stopped in her tracks, the humming of the lights her only companion as she debated her next move:

She could continue on, head into Coulson’s office and where she presumed Mack would also be, and get the information she wanted.

Or she could follow Fitz, who although she only saw for a split second seemed really, really upset.

She shook her head and turned around, heading into the direction she just come from.

 

She had decided that her talk with Coulson just has to wait.

 

She heard him even before she rounded the corner to his room, the cacophony of smashing and clattering echoing throughout the dark hallway. The sounds only amplified her concern, and she quickened her pace, hoping that Fitz wasn’t going to do anything stupid- _like, for instance,_ Daisy considered, _open the containment door of_ _a monolith that also exists as a portal._

Only love can make someone so stupid.

 

She knew this all too well.

 

So that’s why Daisy’s here, skittering to a halt as she comes to his door. She takes a couple of moments to catch her breath before she reaches for the doorknob, and then she barges in.

 

The first thing she notices is the mess. She cannot believe he had the nerve to call _her_ a slob when his room looks like a small tornado has swept through it.

But then she realizes that the clothes strewn on the floor aren’t a result of laziness, but in fact due to the damaged wardrobe strewn across the ground, knocked from its previous upright position by the wall. The dresser in the corner is an empty carcass, and its drawers are in pieces, lying in a heap beside it. She tears her gaze away from the ruins and surveys the small room for Fitz.

His back is to her, and he’s in the midst of swiping supplies off his desk, sending it all clattering to the floor. He pauses for a moment, breathing heavily as he resumes the destruction of his property, flipping the desk over and they both watch as the wood splinters as it hits the ground.

He’s just standing there, shaking a bit from the exertion of destroying his room and whatever happened on the planet, while she silently watches and waits for him to realize she’s there.

Daisy also waits because she knows Fitz, and he’ll talk when he’s ready.

 

He laces his fingers behind his head and squints up at the ceiling, groaning. He turns around, holding his pose until he faces her and lowers his gaze, recognition flashing in his eyes as they stare at each other.

She still doesn’t speak, a fact she feels rather proud about, and she waits for him to begin.

But he doesn’t utter a single word as he stumbles past her to the bed, shaking as he collapses on the edge and buries his head in his hands.

 

That’s when Fitz starts to cry.

 

He makes blubbering noises that could be words, but Daisy can’t understand them between the thickening of his accent and the heaving sobs wracking through him with every breath. She can pick out a couple of names, though, and one of them makes her blood run cold, and time suddenly freezes.

_Ward._

She shakes her head, willing herself to forget as she moves quietly towards Fitz, who is still emitting deep sobs that start deep within his chest and his whole body trembles with exhaustion and torment.

Fitz needs her now, like she had once needed him.

Daisy lowers her body and kneels at the foot of the bed, adjacent to his crying form. She looks up at his face, hidden by his grimy hands, and suddenly she knows what to do.

 

She places her hand on his knee, and hopes that he understands that this small gesture means that she’s here- and that she’s here for him.  
He doesn’t flinch from her touch, but instead wrenches his hands from his face and falls to the ground- to her- encasing his arms around her body and his sobs suddenly becoming muffled by her shirt as she catches him.

 _I got you_ , Daisy thinks.

She also can’t help but remember a parallel moment: one that had both of them on the ground, one of them crying, the other giving comfort.

 

Except this time, the roles have been reversed and Daisy wishes they weren’t.

 

Minutes feel like hours, but soon his sobs and incoherent mumbling fade into silence, and all Daisy can hear is his haggard breathing over her shoulder, her cheek pressing against his hair. She makes no move to release him from the embrace, even though her knees are starting to hurt a bit from kneeling on the carpeted floor.

_Worth it._

 

“I don’t know how to tell her.”

 

His voice quivers as he speaks, and Daisy wishes she could understand what he means.

“Tell her what, Fitz?” She asks softly, careful of startling him.

 

“That Will died for her. That when I met him he wasn’t him but _It_ , and…” Fitz tapers off and he takes deep gulps of air before he continues on.

“… and I had to shoot him-no, _It_. I had to kill _It_. I promised her, Daisy, I promised her I would bring Will back and I couldn’t do that.”

 

He tightens his grip on her and she can’t see his face but she bets that if she could, she would see silent tears cascading down his cheeks.

She’s still processing his words, wondering how Will could be _It_ , when Fitz breaks the silence before she has a chance to.

 

“Daisy.”

She waits, the air still as she listens to his hoarse breathing, and she wonders what else he could possibly say. He whispers it so faintly, she’s straining to hear him.

“Coulson… Coulson killed Ward. With his _hand_. I saw it.”

Daisy’s vaguely aware that Fitz’s asking her if she heard him, but she’s not paying attention and his voice fades out as her heartbeat piercingly drums in her ear.

_Coulson killed Ward._

She feels a lump in her throat, her panic starting to rise and her vision beginning to tunnel. It’s unfathomable, what he’s saying.

And yet she knows it can only be true.

She remembers how revenge-driven Coulson had become. How Rosalind’s blood was on his hands- and the blood in his eyes. True, she did try to kill Ward before- but she saw the opportunity and took it, while Coulson _sought_ the opportunity and literally _crushed_ it.

Daisy curses the universe.

The man she first met, the one who for the _first time_ made her feel safe, feel protected is so different from the man today.

 

Coulson has changed.

Fitz has changed.

Ward has changed.

She has changed.

 

She feels her world start to crumble around her, splintering as it evaporates before her eyes. Her protective cocoon she has worked so hard to rebuild begins to shatter.

 

She also feels something else.

She’s trying to identify the swell of nausea that begins to gnaw at her brain when it hits her: She isn’t mourning Grant Ward, the man who she had once loved and the _traitor_ that ruined so many lives.

She’s mourning Grant Ward, the little boy who grew up in an abusive home and felt lost and unloved. She’s mourning the man that boy could’ve been- a man untouched by anger, destruction, Garrett, Hydra-

If only.

But there can be no “ifs” and there are no “buts”. Time cannot be re-written, no matter how much she wishes it could be. And that little boy who was Grant Ward and that traitor who is Grant Ward are both dead.

And there’s nothing that can change that.

So she snaps out of it; because there’s something else more important to focus on, and she can mourn later.

 

“Fitz.” She pulls him out of their embrace and locks her eyes on his blue ones, reaching her hands out to wipe the tears streaking down his face that she knew would be there.

“I’m going to take care of you like you took care of me.” She states, and places her hands on his shoulders as she repeats herself in case he still doesn’t understand.

“Right now I care about _you_. Not about Coulson, not about Ward- but about you,” she pauses before she completes her sentence. “And Jemma. So, talk to me.”

 

Daisy moves a bit so her knees aren’t pressing into the hard floor, sitting cross-legged as Fitz shifts to lean against the bed. He looks like he’s pitifully absorbing the mess his room has become, but she knows he’s just trying to get his thoughts in order before he speaks.

 

“When Will saved Jemma, _It_ killed him. And I don’t know how, but _It_ was able to possess Will’s body. _It_ had his memories and pretended to be him the whole time. _It_ … _It_ attacked me when I realized and-”

 

“What? Are you hurt?!”

 

She’s angry with herself for not thinking about it before, and she takes the opportunity now to look him over. She reaches the top of his head and notices a cut surrounded by dried blood. She jumps up, ignoring him trying to tell her that it’s nothing as she heads to bathroom, where she knows the small first aid kit is.

She has to walk carefully not to step on any glass that litters the tiled floor, and she catches sight of her disfigured reflection in the broken mirror.

The pit in her stomach grows: how can she claim to know anyone when she hardly recognizes herself anymore?

 

She ignores the thought and grabs the kit, heading back to sit on the bed. She begins to root through it, searching for the supplies she needs. Daisy stops rifling through it in order to pat the spot besides her, and she glares a silent order at Fitz before she resumes her task. She’s unable to hide her smirk when she hears Fitz groaning, muttering that she’s being such a _mum_ as he pulls himself up beside her.

She leans forward when she finds the hydrogen peroxide, and she’s carefully cleaning away the dried blood from his forehead with no indication of pain from him at all when it hits her again how different they all have become.

The Fitz from another time would’ve been complaining like a baby.

 

“Daisy, I had to kill _It_. I know I had to and I don’t blame myself for that. But killing whatever was left of Will? That’s... that’s on me.”

 

She finishes cleaning the wound and throws the wet bloody gauze across the room- its already a mess- and sits back as she twists the cap off of the Neosporin, thinking of a proper response.

 

“Fitz, from what you’re telling me it seems that Will was _dead_ dead. As in: _not_ alive. In any way, shape or form. There was nothing left of him _to_ kill: so you shouldn’t be blaming yourself.” She can’t figure out if she’s pressing a bit too forcefully applying the ointment on his cut or not, because when he winces she doesn’t know if it’s from the pain or her words.

 

And she cannot believe it when he starts trying to argue with her.

 

“But I _promised_ Jemma, Daisy. I promised her I would bring Will back, and I failed. How will she be able to look at me? Don’t you _see_? I’m not good enough for her!” Fitz’s voice has risen as he became more and more agitated, and with his exclamation he suddenly jerks his head away from Daisy’s hands, removing himself from the bed. He puts his hands on his hips as he walks briskly to the wall, his back to her.

 

Daisy feels the anger that seems to roll off him in waves, and she finds herself absorbing it.

“ _EXCUSE_ ME?”

 

From the fact that Fitz turns around, shock written across his face, Daisy knows her words come out as forcefully as she means them to. She narrows her eyes and musters her most stern expression as she marches towards him, making sure to stomp the ground hard with each step. He quickly recovers from being surprised and sets his jaw, lowering his arms as he holds his ground. She comes right up to him and sets her ointment-oily pointer finger pressing into his chest.

 

“ _You?_ You think _you’re_ not good enough for her? If it weren’t so incredibly sexist to say that you are _more_ than good enough for her, then I would say it! Fitz! You love her, and she loves you! Have you considered _that,_ Mr. ‘Oh How Could Anyone Love Me’?” She takes her finger off and puts her hands on her hips, silently daring him to contradict her.

 

Fitz glowers at her until his expression reverts back to one of despair. He shakes his head, lowering his gaze to the floor and his voice quivers.

“Consider? How, Daisy? She _loved_ Will. And I promised- I let my best friend down. She won’t be able to forgive me. So there’s nothing to consider, Daisy.”

 

 _I swear to GOD,_ Daisy internally groans, _these stupid Brits and their crappy, shitty, half-assed communication skills!_

She throws her hands up in exasperation. How can someone be so smart and yet so goddamn _stupid_ at the same time?!

“Maybe there is! _Ugh_ , Fitz! Sometimes, I wonder how anything gets past that thick head of yours! She’s loved _you_ for years. Still does. Yeah, she’s going to mourn Will- he was a part of her life. But you _are_ her life, and Jemma would _never_ blame you for something that wasn’t your fault.”

 

He glances up at her, his eyes misty with tears and pain.

“You don’t understand-”

 

“ _Help_ me understand, Fitz!”

 

He shouts it:

“ _WE’RE CURSED._ ”

 

Daisy still doesn’t quite understand, and it must be written across her face because Fitz blinks back the unwanted tears, pressing on.

“We- I… I kissed her.”

 

She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. He leans his back against the wall, sliding down as he holds his head in his hands.

“It was before Rosalind. Jemma was angry with me for helping to rescue Will, and we got into a fight. I don’t know what happened- I was impulsive and rash and _stupid,_ but I kissed her.”

Fitz shakes his head and Daisy finds herself stepping forward and sliding down the wall beside him.

“Hell, I even bloody told her that the cosmos wants us to be apart- I mean, look at _everything_ that’s happened, Daisy! Is it really so irrational to think that?”

 

He lowers his hands and crosses them across his chest, giving her a sullen but bold look. She knows that he’s expecting her to argue with him, but she has no argument to give him, and she continues staring into space in front of her.

 

Daisy can’t argue with him because she can’t help but feel like cursing the cosmos too.

 _It’s not fair,_ she thinks, _they were **Fitz-Simmons** , for Christ’s sake. _

She’s been rooting for them longer then she would ever admit to anyone, and she’s pretty sure she’s not the only one who sees that Fitz and Jemma are best friends and _more_.

Not to mention that she has always wondered what their first kiss would be like, in a non-creepy sort of way.

 

She had imagined fireworks, bursting in multitude with their light shattering the night sky against their dark silhouettes.

Imagined there would be choruses of angels, their heavenly voices singing hallelujah, while they walked along the beach hand in hand.

Imagined the ocean, with its calming tides behind them as dolphins leap out of the depths to shape the form of a heart as Fitz and Jemma embrace.

 

She did _not_ imagine this: a kiss born out of pain and anger, and a messed up belief that this was the only chance they were going to get.

She wants to howl and curse and bite and kick- anything that would make the disappointment and anger she feels toward the world disappear.

 

She turns to look at the man she considers a brother, and knows that she cannot tell Fitz any of what _exactly_ she thinks. But he’s expecting an answer, and so she gives him a question.

“What was her reaction?”

 

He uncrosses his arms and rests them at his sides and he pretends to pick an invisible thread on his pants, unable to meet her gaze.

“She… um… she kissed me back.”

 

Daisy nods, processing his words. Not that she’s surprised; of course Jemma kissed him back. These two _idiots_ are in _love_. And Daisy can picture that that second kiss was all that she had imagined, and although it didn’t have the fireworks, or the angels, and definitely not the heart-forming leaping dolphins, it must’ve felt like there were.

She’ll take what she can get.

She shrugs, “So what’s the problem?”

 

“Wha-what’s the problem? Are you _serious_? Did you not hear _anything_ I just said?”

 

Daisy huffs, suddenly annoyed again that he, after all this time, wondered if she was listening to him.

“Fitz, maybe _you_ aren’t listening to _me_. I said; what’s the problem? She loves you, Fitz. So why are you afraid to talk to her? Is it the cosmos? Because I would fucking fight it, Fitz. I would fucking fight the shitty universe for you two.”

 

“Daisy-”

 

“Listen. I _would_ \- but I don’t need to. You and Jemma have been already fighting it for _years_. You got brain damage, Fitz. You got brain damage, and she left, and you fought, and _then_ when you two finally made up she got whisked away to another _planet_. For _months_. Not to mention everything that’s happened in between. It sucks, and it’s cruel, but throughout all of this pain and hurt and separation, you always come back to her- and she comes back to you. ‘The power of love’ and all that crap. So why do you think that after one bad kiss and England you won’t be able to fix it _together_ , like you guys always do?”

 

He’s scrunching his eyes at her, and she wonders if she had inherited x-ray vision instead she would be able to see the gears locking into place inside his brain.

He opens his mouth and closes it a few times. His face changes from one of ache to one of astonishment.

 

“You’re right.”

 

She snorts and rolls her eyes.

“Damn right I’m right,” she declares haughtily.

 

She nudges him with her shoulder and nods towards the door.

“Go.”

 

She’s suddenly pulled into a side hug that’s more awkward than he obviously intended, but she doesn’t care and embraces him right back. They release each other and he jumps up, murmuring his thanks as he spins around and steps over the discarded clothes and ruined furniture, running out the door.

Daisy waits until she cannot hear the rapid thud of his footsteps as they race down the hallway, heading to Jemma’s room. She lets out a slow breath and slowly pulls herself up off the floor. She’s passing by the bed when she sees the forgotten bandage, and she realizes she never patched his cut. Groaning at her absentmindedness and the feeling that she is going to be sore for _weeks,_ Daisy walks out.

 

She’s closing the door when reality comes crashing back to her.

 

_What do I do now?_

Waves of exhaustion and dread hit her, and she has to place her hand against the door to steady herself as her mind races.

How can she go to Coulson? Armed with the knowledge that he killed Ward in a fit of revenge, and ask him what happened on the planet? How can she ever see him as a _father_ again, knowing what she knows?

 

She doesn’t love Ward, but she did once, a long, long time ago. She can’t deny herself that, no matter how hard. She can’t erase time, she can’t erase the past, she can’t-

Daisy can’t imagine her life without Fitz. Or Jemma, or May, Mack, Bobbi, Hunter, Lincoln: those who have been at her side through hell and back. She _knows_ them, and they know her. Doesn’t that make them a family?

 

But Daisy swallows a sob that rises within her throat as she remembers the others she had also once considered _family_ :

 

She thought she knew Ward, but he turned out to be a killer.

She thought she knew Jiaying, but she turned out to be a killer.

She thought she knew Andrew, but he turned out to be a killer.

She thought she knew _Coulson_ , but he turned out to be a killer.

                                          

 

_I don’t really know anyone._

 

She stands at his door, unsure of herself.

**Author's Note:**

> Compliments and criticisms alike are appreciated.


End file.
